A Timeless Collection
by Thordis Valentina
Summary: Radiant Garden: a world fueled by the burning vitality of memories living on within the hearts of those who scarcely survived its pulverization. A collection of oneshots for those who survived the horrible ordeal...
1. Marionette

This is a collection of oneshots featuring the members from the Hollow Bastion Restoration Committee (yes, Merlin counts) and those related to them. There will be a lot of fanon stuff in here because—let's face it—nothing is more boring that rigidly sticking to canon material like a person with a ten-foot pole rammed up her ass.

As a precaution let it be known that any Leon/Yuffie romance will be left out and if it will help the fanbase, I offer my apologies. I'm afraid I simply cannot picture the two of them together. There will NOT be an yaoi/yuri because I firmly believe that Cloud and Leon are perfectly straight. Just because Cloud runs away from Aerith and Tifa, just because Leon doesn't have Rinoa doesn't make the two of them gay for each other.

Anti-OC fans should rejoice. While I may run around screwing around with the pairings, I've decided to stick to existing characters.

And finally, before I shut up for good, I've decided to include Zack. While I initially started out not liking him very much, he isn't all that bad and his character has grown onto me (besides it's fun to write about him). It's a pity Nomura hit his head on a pavement somewhere in Japan and left the guy out.

**A Timeless Collection**_  
Thordis Valentina  
_

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**Rating: **PG**  
Genre:** Angst/General**  
Chapter precaution:** N/A**  
Pairing:** Leon/Rinoa**  
Summary:** Leon was nothing more than a shell of his former self—a marionette strung to his puppeteer, tweaking, fighting and scowling to his master's content.**  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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**- Marionette -**

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When he first opened his eyes, the first thing that swam in Leon's vision was the myriads of colors projected on his ceiling. Brilliant hues of blues, yellows, and reds filtered through a sliver of opening in his curtains. He lay in bed—his blanket still covering most of his body—steely blue eyes fixed on the fantastic colors. He listened to the tick-tocking of the clock on his bedside table, its sound amplified by the heavy silence of his bedroom. It reminded him of a splinter that had lodged itself in his soul. At this Leon tried imagining the many times had he assumed this same position to count off the seconds that carried him further away from a world that had become lost amid the misty veil of age.

Leon sighed, his brow crumpling from concentration and lips pursed in a pensive frown. He was, by birthright, named Squall Leonhart and he had spent all of his childhood in a world that was literally sunshine, daisies, and butterflies.

Radiant Garden.

It was his home and possessed everything that made him. He had grown up there, learning, seeing, and creating so many memories it was painfully impossible for him to recite a specific incident without the cloud of doubt fogging his mind—any happy incident, for that matter. Branded into his mind was the throbbing of a memory so hurtful, it felt as though a thousand knives and lacerated his heart into thin, meaty ribbons.

So long ago Radiant Garden had fallen, yet it seemed as though it had occurred only just yesterday. Yet the fact that many years had passed since the cold echo of terror racking resounding in darkened corridors while his mind was burning up with anger and shame. It felt like an intangible nightmare that still haunted him even after five weary years that felt like ten. Now, Leon could scarcely remember his happy world. When he thought of Radiant Garden, it became a twisted sinister skeleton of a place reminiscent of its former grandeur. It became a splendor that had been chewed up and spat back out by the corruption of hearts, poisoned by an evil seed that had somehow lodged itself deep into the warm, sun-kissed soils.

And while Leon had nearly forgotten everything he previously held close to him, there was one memory that never melded into dark oblivion: her face.

Those soft round cheeks, the curve of her warm smile, her swimming toffee eyes framed by wisps of sable hair; all of it remained so firmly embedded in his mind, Leon could conjure an image so clean, so crisp, and so beautiful, it was almost as if she was standing right before him, her slender arms held out and welcoming him into her heart.

He lifted his hand to his face and stared at his bare calloused palm through blank eyes. Another sigh rose unbidden, emerging as a soft _haa_. The young warrior felt guilt overcome his sense. Leon had tried. He tried so hard to save her but his incompetence overruled his desires. Everything Leon had done, every choice he had made was a tangled mess of irrevocable and pigheaded mistakes. In the end, he had failed her, killed her. She was gone, taking the greater part of Squall Leonhart as she had fallen into a thousand feet of dark rubble.

Leon was nothing more than a shell of his former self—a marionette strung to his puppeteer, tweaking, fighting and scowling to his master's content. Without Rinoa, Leon's soul crippled and the light within him extinguished. She had been everything in his life. She cut the strings that bound him to the puppeteer. Rinoa brought light and ambition to him.

Eyes still fixed coldly on his palm he curled his fingers into his palm and tightened his fist with so much care the gesture could have lasted for an hour. Lying with his entire body pressing against the hard mattress, he squeezed until his knuckles turned white and his nail scored angry red crescent-shaped imprints in his palm. Never again would Leon feel the velvety skin beneath his work-hardened fingers—and he coveted the sensation with all his heart.

If Leon was an artist, he could have closed his eyes and molded Rinoa's face with the sheer power of his memory. But Leon was not much of a sculptor and he was not much of a warrior either. To him, Leon was nothing, because he had failed everyone: Cloud, Aerith, Zack, Merlin… and above all, _her._ And there was nothing Leon could do to redeem himself except to scorn who he was, shed his former self and life the life of a complete stranger. This was something Leon convinced himself to do.

Aerith had once told him that the pain of losing someone dearly beloved would mend with time. Leon knew he should have given her credit. She had, in a way, lost Cloud herself and it was only natural that Aerith understood the pain. Yet in spite of her helpful suggestion, the burden grew heavier with each passing day.

The pain was unbearable. It singed his heart, slowly burning straight to its core, leaving behind the pulsing residue of numbness. All that was left in the mold of a young man long gone were emotions of darkness and Leon doubted that he—a man so weak and helpless—had the gall to pull himself from his sagging depression.

Traverse Town's skies were always so black and bleak. Its forlorn buildings were never blessed with the golden rays of the sun. While the panoramic twinkle of stars were present, their gloomy shine had been fighting a losing war with the glaring neon emancipating from the town itself. Its environment was the source of the bitterness and the dampening of his spirits. Leon hated Traverse Town with so much intensity that had he not known any better he would have razed it to the ground much in the same manner Sephiroth had with Radiant Garden.

Suddenly it occurred to Leon that Rinoa's eyes glowed like the stars dancing and smiling. Unlike Traverse Town the air had been fresh and breezy and the moon nurtured the lands of his world with her argent light. During those times, Leon lived in a world free from sorrow and loss. In Radiant Garden, nobody dared to believe the darkness to spread into their lungs and seep into their hair, because they had King Ansem and not a single person questioned him with his loyality.

Rinoa. It was a beautiful name, and Leon enjoyed the way his lips formed each letter, and savored each syllable formed by the twisting of his tongue. Back then, it felt as though he was calling for an angel and pulled him from the ground into cloud nine. Now she was forever absent, unable to receive her glowing name so when he said her name it crumbled to ashes and brought a sour taste to Leon's mouth. No longer could he let her materialize from his thoughts. She was trapped within his mind, slowly and agonizingly tearing him apart, burning every fiber of his being to the ground. With her dead, there was no one here who could save him.

A sigh emancipated in the darkened room, temporarily quelling the stressed silence. Regardless of his desires to curl up and let his mind sink back into blissful slumber, Leon knew he would have to get up sooner or later.

Leon sat up and swung his bare feet on the squeaky floorboard. The warm soles of his feet absorbed the coldness, instantly chilling every part of his body—especially his heart. He rose from his bed, ready to relive his repetitive life as a marionette. Fate would tweak the invisible strings that guided him through this world and he—empty and cold from a loss too sorrowful to overcome—would let it bend him to its own maliciousness. A life without Rinoa was meaningless and he lost the resolve to bring himself to care.

Leon shuffled mechanically through his room performing the mundane rituals of washing, dressing, and grooming. When he was done, he stood before a full-length mirror (placed under the fierce request of a young ninja girl) and squinted coldly at his reflection. He took in the extra lines forming around the corners of his grim mouth and his dull blue eyes. What would Rinoa think of him if she saw him like this? Would she scold him, and then use her slender fingers to fix the grim line on his lips into a smile?

Would his eyes brighten if she were to take his hand into her own with tenderness befit to melt the heart of a war-hardened man?

Leon had always believed it cowardly for a man to cry, but as Rinoa swam tantalizingly in his memory, he felt his insides crumble and fall apart. While his eyes remained stubbornly dry and his face fixed in its usual stern mask, Leon broke down inside. He stared at his face a little longer then snapped his head away, disgusted simply by looking at himself. It was now, and it was today that the puppeteer's marionette raised his little white flag in defeat. Long ago, he may have promised Zack that he would pull himself together and fight with all his might, but looking at who he had become now, resistance was impossible.

Leon felt rage consume him.

A mighty shatter bit through the stuffy silence, followed by the loud bang of the door slamming in its jamb. In the darkened room, pieces of the shattered mirror lay on the ground, glittering eerie silver in the weird light—lost, detached, and lonely as the man who occupied the room it stood in.

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This story is mildly connected to Multicolored Mirrors, hence the reference of Sephiroth and Zack.


	2. Serendipity: I

Despite my computer being royally fucked, the updating continues... slowly but surely. Further details can be found in my LJ account (accessible through my profile).

NB: Despite having already edited this story, I am planning on going over it a few more times.

Edited: Mar.05.2009

**A Timeless Collection**_  
Thordis Valentina  
_

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**Rating: **PG**  
Genre:** General/Family/Friendship**  
Chapter precaution:** Umm... angst?**  
Pairing:** Unrevealed/Tifa**  
Summary:** Two people, connected by one person, meet by chance.**  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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**- Serendipity - **

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I.

Wine-colored eyes rose to meet the blinding blue sky overhead. Tifa closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet scent of fresh grass and morning dew that filled her entire being. She drew her arms out, fingers stretched out and folded them behind her back.

Here she was in yet another world, frantically chasing after the shadow of a friend, someone she loved and adored endlessly. The color of the mid-morning heavens reminded her of his eyes, passive yet volatile—so frequent to change, oscillating and constantly moving on, leaving her alone with snatches of memories that fell through her fingers as would water in cupped hands.

Tifa opened her eyes again, deep burgundy staring out against the wide expanse of sapphire.

A warm breeze smoothed past her face and she exhaled, lowering her arms so to position her hands on her hips, determined but sorrowful eyes fixed on the dusty path winding into the horizon. It was a path that she would tread alone until the day she reached him. Until then, she kept a piece of her mind tucked safely within the recesses of her skull, saving it for the future where she would be boxing his ear and scolding him for being such a fool.

Her long journey had not been a holiday; she wasn't on vacation… it was more of a job, rather, more like a trip with purpose, one that would right all the wrongs of the past and rebind the unraveled rope of camaraderie. She had made a solemn promise, not only to herself but to everyone and everything Cloud had left behind all those years ago. The trip had persisted for many painful years, ofttimes rendering her teary-eyed, shivering cold and alone in a yet another inn on another crumbling world, with no warm arms to protect her from her fears.

During the six years since the collapse of Ansem's kingdom, she had dedicated every fiber of her soul in locating an elusive blonde-haired-blue-eyed boy (now a grown man), whose face remained crisp within her mind's eyes regardless of time. Tifa had been to so many worlds, she could scarcely remember all of them, only the bitter taste of disappointment when she left feeling more empty than she had ever been before.

Despite the misery that swam in her belly, each failure gave birth to something else rising from the ashes of despair, flashing brilliantly and pulsing with vitality. Each time an empty world shattered her heart, her determination strengthened. An anonymous entity dwelling deep within her heart whispered encouragements into her will. Intuition gently prodded her onward constantly reminding her that Cloud was still out there, still alive, equally as lost and lonely as she had been. If she hadn't found Cloud in Radiant Garden—now known as Hollow Bastion, as rumor had it—then he could have been somewhere else.

Squaring her shoulders and drawing her lips tight with hope, Tifa lifted one leg and brought her foot down firmly onto the dirt trail. No matter what happened, Tifa would continue moving forward and she wasn't going to stop until she found him or unless his death had been confirmed.

**x x x**

It was half past noon by the time signs of civilian residence floated into her view.

The walk along the sunny path had been pleasant enough and completely free of the shadowed bodies of Heartless that plagued numerous worlds, watching her with their dull golden eyes. Here, there were only miles and miles of grass and flowers extending as far as the eye could see that blended perfectly with the tangy scent of salt.

Tifa had paused next to a patch of birch trees overlooking a sleepy seaside hamlet nestled on a cliff protruding spectacularly over the sparkling cobalt ocean. From where she stood, the village appeared to be nothing more than a multitude of colors, like the brightly patterned dresses her mother used to wear before that pivotal night when pleasant dreams convoluted into sinister proportions and transformed into hellish nightmares.

Stray tears prickled in the corners of Tifa's eyes at the thought and a small frown worked its way on her pretty features. Reminiscing the happy memories lost amid hazy Time was almost too much for her to bear. Yet, regardless of her efforts, they flooded her mind's eye and she was powerless to stop them. And, for the briefest of moments, she stood her ground, staring out at the little town, transparent pictures whizzing by in a blur of sunny days and argent smiles.

At one point, she too had lived in a cozy village embedded high up in the mountains. Radiant Garden had been a world full of eternal bliss, so full of everything that when it fell apart, everyone had lost something important. Gone where the days where she could collapse in the snow, grinning innocently, raw fingers curled around Cloud's; gone were the afternoons where she and Aerith sped through the streets to catch a glimpse of the handsome military men. The perpetual fragrance of flowers had fallen away to the stench of blood, decay, and putrid despondency all because of one man... one single man who had squashed their last ray of hope.

No.

It was useless pointing fingers now and angering over something long since past.

But still!

She couldn't bring herself to let go.

He had taken it all away with his dark chuckles and glittering emerald eyes. He stripped them all of their jubilation far too easily... she hated him, the man who was perfectly evil with that silky lilt to his voice as he mocked her. Tifa bit her lips with the effort to control the emotions bubbling within. Hatred and anger wouldn't change anything. All it brought was exhaustion, left her eyes clouded over with tears that couldn't fall.

The balmy zephyr sifted over her face, grasping her dark emotions, gently extracting them from dark, undulating hair and carrying them into the seascape beyond. Tifa watched the gleaming sun shimmering gold on cobalt with a gloved hand positioned in her hair, keeping it out of her face as she stared down at the scenery stretching out before her, savoring every warm moment and whatever traces of her delicious childhood swirling like butterflies in her head. She raised her free hand and slowly brought it to the trunk of an old birch tree, exposed fingertips brushing against the soft bark.

For a moment, Tifa remained perfectly still, the corners of her pink lips quirking up just slightly as she basked in the sun, transfixed by a sensation of peace she had not felt since so long ago. If she could, Tifa would have spent the rest of her years enjoying this single moment… but what was she to gain idling precious hours that could be put to good use searching that sleepy village perched on the cliff?

Tifa shook her head quickly.

She dropped her hands and quickly set down the jagged mountain trail, the clumping of her boots melding with the far-off cries of seagulls.

**x x x**

The bumpy trail led her down from the tall cliff, carrying her into a valley with a thin brook gurgling and churning softly as silvery water bubbled down its rocky bed. Here, the path smoothed out, weaving through clumps of thick shrubbery. Their thick leaves stirred softly almost glowing spring-green under the rays of the cheery sun beaming overhead. Gazing up at the smiling disk, Tifa was vaguely reminded of a certain flirty colonel with hair black as onyx and sparkling violet eyes.

Another nostalgic smile crept onto her face.

Zackery Fair.

Her friend Aerith, along with many other girls their age, had been crazy about him… only Aerith had been much sweeter about her obsession—blushing pretty pink and shyly clasping delicate hands together at the mentioning of young, brave Zack. Tifa remembered happy, carefree moments that included skipping down flagstone stairs packed full of copious amounts of giggling. Sometimes, she and Rinoa would sidle alongside Aerith and tease her before the three of them burst into girlish laughter.

Mind still buzzing with trinkets from her past, Tifa continued easily down the trail and over a tiny wooden bridge arching gracefully over the ribbon of water.

Here, the dirt road tilted steeply upwards; slowly but surely morphing into dusty stairs. About a quarter of her way up, the stairs became tamer, paved neatly in brick and mortar, climbing higher and higher, carrying her up and away from the ground and closer to the heavens.

**x x x**

Day had steeped into late afternoon when Tifa had finally emerged from one of the many narrow streets feeding into a wide plaza. The sun, now glowing vermillion, sank, casting the world in a wash of intense amber.

Overall, the scenery was breathtakingly beautiful, but Tifa was much too tired to enjoy the picturesque seascape. She did, however, take note of a goodly-sized fountain occupying the center of the plaza as well as a few unoccupied benches, located a few paces away.

Relief washed over her body.

At last! A place to rest her weary legs!

It didn't take her very long to cover the small expanse separating her from blissful repose. Tired and utterly extinguished from her lengthy climb, Tifa dropped into one of the benches. She threw her head back, leaning her spine against the wood and closed her eyes, arms resting loosely on stomach. Breathing heavily, she listened to the rhythmic thumping of her heart, the cries of jubilant children, cawing gulls, and waves splitting and crashing against rocky cliffs. Somewhere in the comforting glow behind her lids, all the sounds of the world had morphed, blending into a perfectly relaxing symphony. Tifa released a blissful sigh.

How long? How long had she been given the chance to indulge peace, so glowing and glorious?

So long.

Too long.

It was Heaven on Earth.

For the briefest of seconds, Tifa felt as though she was on cloud nine, in floating in Seventh Heaven. It was tempting to lie still in the setting sun, relishing the warm glow on her skin. She could have stayed there until she grew old and died, if she wanted to. But, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Tifa's mind never left the turmoil of a promise she had made long ago on that fateful day; the day Radiant Garden crumbled and everything went to hell. It was a promise she had made not just to herself, but to everyone else connected to Cloud.

She was young then, being nothing more than a teenager, aged fourteen and scared out of her wits. Those terrible days were spent huddling in packs within little hidey-holes, guided by Squall and a man named Cid, who brought with him a little eight-year-old girl with shining black hair and round brown eyes.

Regardless of the myriads of memories Tifa had accumulated in her now-dilapidated home, her last few weeks on Radiant Garden were filled with anything but. The sudden change in atmosphere had brutally flipped life inside-out. Abdomens cramping from lack of nourishment, they had braved it out in cramped squalor, tempers running sky-high. Squall and Cloud spent nearly every day arguing and when Cid had tried act as the mediator he too was drawn into the verbal lashing, leaving the job to either Rinoa, Aerith, or herself. Sometimes the fights grew ugly and escalated to drawn-out brawls, leaving the girls with nothing else to do but watch them grapple at each other on the uneven ground, fists flying left and right…

Tifa forced her raging memories to a halt and opened her eyes to the sky that still glowed orange. Slowly, she sat up, stretching her limbs leisurely before twisting out the kinks in her shoulders. Her leg muscles were still burning from over-exertion but the tremor in them had gone. They were still in working order and there was no time to waste. The more ground she covered, the faster and closer she would be to finding Cloud. Like a cat slowly rousing from its siesta, Tifa eased herself to her feet and laced her fingers together, ending the short ritual a long and languid stretch. She dropped her arms to her sides then plunged herself into the maze of narrow streets.

**x x x**

Fresh laundry swayed in the cooling breeze, crisp white bedspreads and underwear bleeding red from the now-crimson heavens. The sun was dipping down low now, close to kissing the horizon and ready to disappear entirely. Tifa strode purposefully through the near-empty streets—fingers covering pursed lips from intense concentration—boots thudding softly on the tiled ground.

Though the village was small, it took her much longer than necessary to navigate the village. Mostly because the residents had cleared the streets so quickly and partially because the city-planning had been so complex. She had, of course, managed to stop a few children and an old lady, but her gestures and descriptions faced similar, disappointing answers: nobody had seen or heard of a person named Cloud Strife.

Tifa continued to meander along the streets, peering into every nook and cranny for evidence that her friend might have stopped by. Each time she turned up empty, she squashed her desperation by combing her fingers through her hair and shrugging before she began her search anew.

The young woman turned into an unfamiliar street that was mostly empty save for a small group of children squatting near the cul-du-sac engaged in a game of tops and a few adults, most of being street venders manning or closing up their shops. Silver trinkets rested on blankets spread over the ground, winking under the dull street lamps flickering to life overhead. Directly across from them, an ice cream vender stood in his store, precariously balancing a large scoop of icy goodness over a too-small waffle cone. He leaned forward and reached down to hand it to a bright-eyed child bearing large, hauntingly familiar blue eyes.

Immediately, flashbacks assaulted Tifa's mind, gently coaxing her back to a past long gone. This time, she was only six and huddled around a round marble table with Aerith and Cloud, their mouths watering as their heavy, creamy mass of pink goodness slowly descended on the table. The glass cup was monstrous, artistically cut angles glinting cheerily in the morning sun. The silver spoons stuck haphazardly into the massive pile winked tantalizingly at the eager children and, soon after the bowl touched the warm surface, they attacked their treat in a whirlwind of viciousness fit to frighten even Sephiroth.

She could remember the sweet cherry flavor that assaulted mer mouth even now, how Aerith had yet to blossom into her gracious womanhood, and how Cloud's tongue peaked from the corner of his mouth as he split the cherry into three equal pieces. The three of them had been very close to each other, for such a long time—the "Golden Trio," as many liked to refer to them back in the days when they did everything (from climbing trees to sharing beds) together. It brought a smile to her face.

Back in those days, the thought of being split into different worlds never once crossed her mind. Where was Cloud? What was he doing right now? Tifa bit her lower lip thoughtfully. Searching for Cloud was like combing through a haystack for a needle. How many more worlds did she have to cross until she found him? She had traveled to so many different places, frantically looking and praying to whomever cared to listen that he wasn't lying dead in the gutters or, even worse, a writhing mass of dark shadows…

"Excuse me, Miss… uh… Miss? Miss?"

Abruptly, Tifa's thoughts shattered for the umpteenth time that day. Her head snapped toward the tiny voice pulling her from migraine-inducing mysteries and the musty tangles of a her recollections straight into a pair of vaguely familiar baby-blues...

**x x x**

Her breath hitched and the world stood very still.

"Cloud?"

She hadn't realized she said that out loud until:

"Um…" There was an awkward pause.

Then, "…I don't…" Something about the voice seemed a bit off. The pitch was similar, but it carried a lighter tone, considerably chipper and clearer than the dour mumble she usually affixed to Cloud when it came to identifying his voice.

She blinked. Once, twice, then a few more times and her vision cleared. Eyes no longer clouded by ghost-images of a man who was a fascinating mélange of a best friend and the only person she could ever bring herself to love, stinging disappointment flooded her heart like salt pouring in on open wounds.

Despite it all, she was still surprised. Words hanging on the tip of her tongue, she found her feet glued to the stone, mouth slightly ajar and eyes growing big and round.

Tifa had been trained by one of the best Martial Artist in Radiant Garden. Thus, there were very few things in life that could actually stop her dead in her tracks. On her quest to find Cloud, she had encountered some of the worst creatures a woman her age could ever witness, but none of them had never stopped her from slamming a firm roundhouse kick into their shadowy faces. Yet, here she was, a woman who could bust a few heads completely caught off guard by a walking Legend in a peaceful little town. Such a situation had been completely unexpected, to say the least.

Infatuation was not the word to describe her thoughts. Besides, it _was_ a bit difficult to believe what she was seeing when said legend donned a penguin-printed apron. The matching pink ice-cream hat perched on his head wasn't very convincing either—not when she… when she… well… let's just say that his ensemble wasn't quite what she expected it to be.

Yet, there he was only a few feet away from where she stood, larger than life, and wearing a signature, cocky half-smile that no longer reached his eyes. Tifa studied him with a slight tilt of her head and a hand on her hip. Ridiculous uniform aside, he looked exactly the same as he did all those years ago, boyish charm exuding off his shoulders per the usual. The question was, how could a person look exactly the same after everything they had gone through? She wanted to know, but there was a more important inquiry regarding Cloud that had been eating her inside out. Only… she wasn't entirely sure how to go about on this.

Tifa decided it was best to offer a quick apology then move on her way. Though they hailed from the same world, the only firm link she held to the Colonel Fair was Cloud. Aerith's light infatuation with him didn't count—neither of the two women had ever been formally acquainted. Her friend was too bashful and polite about the whole ordeal and Tifa had never been interested.

"I'm sorry about that." She began, already backing away from the ice cream parlor, "You look a lot like someone I knew."

Feeling better, Tifa turned and started back down where she came from.

"Wait. You're from Radiant Garden, aren't you?"

Back still facing the Colonel, Tifa stopped. Deep within her, her stomach squirmed. The loneliness that plagued her was beginning to settle in. One part of Tifa wanted to drop into bed and cope with her pain alone. She'd done it time and time again and had emerged from it still completely in tact. Who was to say she couldn't do it tonight? On the other hand, regardless of the fact that they were strangers, both of them came from the same world and shared the same pain.

Unsure of what else to do, she turned, settling her eyes on his.

Vespertine silence stretched out awkwardly. The top of ruby disk of the sun finally sunk into the horizon plunging the hamlet into dusk. Up in the sky, most of the stars had already exploded across velvety black like a crust of diamonds scintillating breathtakingly. It was by this time, the vendors and children had long since gone home, leaving Tifa with a semi-familiar face and from a world she yearned with all her heart and soul. Her fear of loneliness growing ever stronger, reaching around for her, beseeching for the return of a lost happiness that she could never have again.

"So," the Colonel tried again when Tifa had failed to answer his question. He cleared his throat then continued easily: "You know Cloud Strife, right?"

"Yes..." She trailed off, feeling a contemplative frown crease her brow.

"You friends?"

"Since as long as I can remember."

"Hmm..." He mused more to himself than anyone else, "That's kinda weird... besides his girlfriend and some other girl named Tifa, Cloud's always been pretty awkward around..." This time it was his turn to trail off and frown heavily.

Tifa's lip curved into an amused smile.

"I am."

**x x x**

Colonel Fair sputtered and choked. He leaned as far as he could over his ice cream stand to get a closer look, squinting in the darkness. Tifa didn't blame him, of course. The last time he'd seen her was when she was fourteen, not too long before the war broke out. She had changed so much in the years that followed; then again, perhaps she might have retained a few of her fourteen-year-old features.

Additionally, nocturne had swept over the land now. The sun had sunk completely into the ocean, leaving nothing but pale dying embers in its wake, which quickly faded into the heavy star-mottled heavens, casting the city in a weak silver light bearing little aid to the electric light emitting from lampposts lining darkened buildings.

While it had been just barely bright enough to light the alleyways, Tifa had the niggling sensation that her face had been steeped in shadows. She could easily see the Colonel with the light in his glass ice cream box casting creepy under-shadows over his face, but not so much that the handsomeness became completely contorted. He seemed to be having a difficult time studying her features. So, to help him a bit, she crossed the expanse between the shop and herself and stepped up to his stand, leaning closer to the dim lime-colored light, just enough to keep substantial space between the two.

She caught the Colonel's eyes falling to the lone ruby tear drop earring glinting deep crimson in the fantastical light.

Of course. It was expected of him. Her earrings were unique trinkets, the only object besides light residing within her heart, she had left after losing everything else to the darkness. Cloud had given them to her as a gift on her eleventh birthday. She had put them on immediately and, except for certain circumstances, they had never come off. They became almost like an extra part of her, becoming one of her most distinguished features. The Colonel stared unabashedly, face openly displaying bewilderment before fixing her with an apologetic smile.

"Man," He muttered, rubbing a hand sheepishly against the back of his head, "Talk about serendipity..."

* * *

First and foremost you know exactly who "Colonel Fair" is, right? :3

I know that everyone calls Squall Leon in Kingdom Hearts, but Squeenix made it rather clear that "Leon" was a change made not too long after Maleficent took over Radiant Garden. Since Tifa wasn't there to witness this, he's just "Squall" to her.

The seaside village Zack resides in was designed loosely after Corniglia from the region of Cinque Terre.

There is a second part for this fic coming up, which is written from Zack's point of view. Originally, I intended to make this one long chapter, but it proved to be far too long, so I split it down the middle.

Finally, if you have something you want to say relating to the stories in this collection, don't hesitate to hit the review button.

Ciao~


	3. Serendipity: II

Holy super-fast updating, Batman! Time to take out a pint of ice cream and celebrate! :D

This story will be written in first-person perspective. Just 'cos it's Zack.

Once again, I'm well aware of the mistakes in this fic. The monstrocity shall be edited sometime in the future, so keep your eyes peeled.

Edited: Mar.09.2009 // Mar.16.2009 (wow. I must have been stoned while writing and editing this)

**A Timeless Collection**_  
Thordis Valentina  
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**Rating: **PG-13**  
Genre:** Hurt/Comfort/Friendship/Romance**  
Chapter precaution:** My pathetic attempt at writing romance, foul language, and length.**  
Pairing:** Zack/Tifa**  
Summary:** Two people, connected by one person, meet by chance.**  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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**- Serendipity - **

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II.

I can't be entirely sure how it came to this.

One minute, I'm handing a kid an ice cream cone, free of charge, then next thing I know, I'm falling for someone who doesn't even look at me the way I want her to.

It happened pretty quickly but not on the spot, that's for sure, not when I barely knew her and she barely knew me.

The whole situation started off really awkward. Especially when I found myself ogling at a pair of really fine breasts only to be slapped across the face (hard) when I figured out exactly who they belonged to—those winking earrings of hers were a testimony of my findings. But I've got to say, it was a hell of a lot easier to forget the shapely Tifa Lockhart once I figured that she was, well, Tifa.

See, she wasn't exactly the hottest girl of the bunch, at least not from what I remember of her. While her face was pretty enough, her figure had been shaped in a way that no a girl would have been proud of owning. Don't mean to sound judgmental, but that's the truth.

Anyway, we stood apart from each other, neither of us breathing a single word. Tifa had her lips pursed, as though she was trying very hard not to verbally beat me to death with all those questions about Cloud she'd been penning up inside. As for myself, well, I was trying my damnedest to make that singular piece of jewelry disappear by the sheer willpower. Having shamelessly stared at someone who was a girl and practically genderless as far as my mind perceived it, I was in a state of denial. When it didn't go away, the guilt began swimming into my mind. I didn't bother stopping it. Being a man who's straight as a pin, I had been checking her out. If Cloud were ever here, he probably would have glared at me for being such an ass.

I probably would have beat him to sinking a fist in my face.

My fingers twitched, tempted.

The right thing for me to do was to nod, give her my little lopsided grin and send her on her way. At least that's what I would have done maybe six, seven years ago, back in the day when I still had everything. But there I was, hollow as a log, Tifa, a woman from Radiant Garden, merely a few paces away from me. That place had meant the universe to me. It didn't take long for the loneliness to settle in. In the village of Shelton, I was, far, far away from something that had been my all, embittered by loss. When Maleficent seized Radiant Garden, she took from me not a bunch of buildings and people, but my friends, my home, my dreams, and most importantly, my _honor_.

When Tifa literally walked into my life, the memory of loss came swirling back to me and I was filled with an unending desire to regain everything that had slipped through my fingers. A long time ago, I was left with helplessness; I didn't think I was going to get a second chance... Yet it had somehow come back to me in the form of Tifa. Luck was on my side here—I didn't have the time to play goody-goody-two-shoes, not when I was standing at a crossroad.

In fact, I was so pleased with the turn of events, I didn't even stop to think about the morality of it all. How could I? It was impossible as it was for me to control that sheepish smile working its way on my face... How could I possibly have kept my big, ugly mouth from saying those four seemingly unimportant words?

Though, I've gotta say, thinking back on it now, I have never I regretted a single thing that occurred since that one fateful afternoon. Not even the blow to my pride when my feelings toward Tifa remained painfully unrequited.

**x x x**

"Man, talk about Serendipity."

Talk about stupidity killed the puppy. After having uttered those four words, Tifa couldn't contain herself anymore.

The floodgates holding everything in crashed open with a bang, and her questions flew at me so fast, I was overwhelmed by them.

On the outside, Tifa looked calm, composed, a typical tough-girl who was difficult to crack. The desperation that laced her voice as she expressed her concern for Cloud sounded alien in comparison to her physique. It was obvious that she had been wasting away from worry—so much, in fact, that I found myself pitying her.

She wanted to know everything, right down to the nitty-gritty details of the color of Cloud's underpants.

Okay.

That might be stretching a little too far from the truth. But she still wanted fresh details, important ones, not something she already knew. I, in a way, had everything she wanted and needed. Hell, how couldn't I? Cloud was, at one point, my roommate in our cozy little apartment located on the third floor of my ice cream parlor.

Though I empathized with her loss, it was not enough for me to leak anything that would send her skittering out of my life, taking my one last chance to relive it all with her. It sounds disgusting of me, I know, and I hated myself for being such the selfish sonuvabitch I was.

Eight years ago, the outcome would have been completely different. An eighteen-year-old Zack would have patted Tifa's shoulders, gave her what she wanted, and sent her on her way, like the perfect angel he was. He was the complete opposite of what I've become today.

When I was considerably younger, however, there were many aspects in life that I never really understood. Losing everything and being presented with a chance to win it all back had been one of them. Either way, conscience or no, I was going to go through with this.

I shot Tifa a quick and guilty look, which she misinterpreted as confusion. (Oh I heard her alright, I just wasn't going to slip anything to her). She took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, as though to catch her bearings, then tried again.

"I know it's not in my place to ask you... but Cloud is... he's important not just to me, but to other people as well..." She looked away, kicking dust with the end of her shoes, then continued cautiously, "So I need to know... is he—have you seen him around here?"

I blinked rapidly and innocently. Brilliant. I was a real show biz.

Have I seen Cloud? Of course I did. We spent six years licking away at our wounds, we fought big time about a week ago before the kid up and vanished on me, taking my buster sword with him muttering something about hunting his darkness. But I wasn't going to tell her that, no sir. I was going to tell her the biggest lie I've ever made in my life... well... a lie that was half the truth. It wasn't very nice of me, but I didn't want to ask her to stay because I knew from the start that she'd turn down my proposal in a heartbeat. So I swallowed hard, licked my lips and spoke:

"Yeah, but he had some things to take care of. He'll be back, but not in the next few months."

You should have seen her face. It lit up so quickly, I actually winced. The desperation and the despair that had been swimming in her eyes—dark like wine—was gone in an instant and there was a giant grin working in her face. And right then and there... wow. I felt like dirt. I had half the mind to cut my tongue out and lock myself in my apartment... after I admitted what a filthy, lying pig I was, of course.

"Really?"

I bit my tongue.

No. I was lying. I'm a piece of shit that you should bag up then toss off a cliff, chained to an anvil and all.

"Yeah."

Deep within the recesses of my craptacular mind, I was begging Cloud to come back and turn this lie into the truth. My insides were squirming with the burning desire to snap my head up and point at his deceptively scrawny form trudging down the street. Why the hell did he have to go running after his stupid darkness, anyway? Why couldn't he just stay here so I didn't have to become a lying fuck? Had he stayed for _one_ more week, I could have just told Tifa that, yeah, I did know where he was and then point at the ceiling. She'd dash upstairs and then the stupid situation would have had its happy ending.

Whoever sat up in heaven must have really hated me, because the streets remained equally as empty as my forlorn apartment. The only person around were the neighbors hiding behind the walls of their homes and Tifa, who was standing about a foot away from my ice cream stand. I relinquished a small sigh. There was no backing out of this now. One for all, all for one. Seize the day, right? Right.

"Do you know where he went to?"

I shrugged. It made me look rude, but I didn't trust myself to speak. Not at the moment, not when I was drowning in a cesspool of self-loathing and guilt. Besides, how would she react if I told her that her precious Cloud was tumbling down into the darkness? That his darkness had manifested itself into the form of my war buddy? Not very pretty, I reckoned. I mean, _I_ had a hell of a lot of trouble coping with it when I found out. If I told her this, she might relapse into an emotional melt down then force everything out of me before running off to continue her wild goose chase. Thoughts still swirling about in my mind, I dared to spy a quick glance at the woman in question.

Tifa looked crestfallen.

That look alone was like a knife through my heart.

Uncomfortable from lying—no, _withholding_ information, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other before bending over, resting my arms on the cold glass and prepared my next move.

"Sorry about that, but I really don't know where he went. He didn't tell me any specifics, just that he'll be back."

"I see..." She trailed off pensively. Then, "Maybe I should wait for him here... in..."

"Shelton. You're in Shelton, and that sounds like a good idea."

"Okay then. Do you know where the nearest inn is?"

"You can stay here, save some munny. I'm sure Cloud wouldn't mind you using his room."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as sure can get. It's not much, but I'll give you a little tour." I offered her a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Hang on, lemme just close up the shop."

And so, that was how it all began. I'm fairly certain that all this is a punishment. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here, starry-eyed every time I so much as think about her.

**x x x**

A week crawled by uneventfully. It didn't take long for Tifa and I to grow accustomed to each other. No sooner had she gasped indignantly upon seeing the squalor that my new home, I had realized that Tifa was not just a girl with a pretty face and a curvy body. She was a girl with personality, strong resolve, and damn stubborn when circumstances called for it. I couldn't even get a word in when I woke up the next day to find my apartment so clean, it actually hurt my eyes to look at it.

Tifa had also offered to help take care of my ice cream parlor and I didn't stop her. Not when she gave me a dirty look. After that, how could I refuse? She was, after all, in for a pretty long stay, at least as long as she had until she figured me out.

It didn't take me very long to realize exactly how efficient she was, what with her being more of a morning person than I was.

In the past week, she'd proven to me that she was pretty damn resourceful not just in running the ice cream parlor, but in simple aspects as well. She played the role of my personal alarm clock, cooked my meals for me, kept my apartment spotless, and was great company. Gone were my days of staving off junk food, gone were the inch-thick layer of dust on the window sill, and the aching solitude that plagued me night after night. My new life would have been perfect if I hadn't lied to her and just asked her to stay a little while. I tried forgetting about what I'd done, rubbing it out until I could scarcely see it anymore. But whenever she mentioned Cloud, my deeds would resurface and my stomach twisted painfully.

My day started off like most days, only Tifa had knocked on my door. I grumbled and squirmed, twisting my pillow with me as I rolled on my side, back to the door.

I didn't hear it crack open, nor did I see her sticking her head between the slab of wood and the jamb. What I did catch was the strong scent of my breakfast wafting in and my stomach rumbled, loudly. Regardless of that, I was determined not to get up.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacon, sea and sunshine!"

I scrunched my pillow closer.

No way. No fucking way.

Her mentioning of food wasn't getting me out. Not in a million years. Tifa would have to drag me out by the hair if she wanted me to wake up. Never mind the fact that my brain was screaming for ailment, never mind that my stomach convoluted from hunger. The hell with my love for bacon. I enjoy sleeping more.

For a moment, there was blissful silence, but I wasn't fooled into thinking she had left me to my peace. The sound of the door shutting was proof enough. The quietude remained long enough for the the gentle tendrils of torpor to consume me. Just as I was about to drift off again, there was the firm drumming of footsteps and, before I knew it, the blanket and the pillow had come off. There was the swift raking of my curtains being thrown open before my eyes were assaulted by the blinding light of the sun.

"Arrgh!" I groaned, then rolled about on my back, trying my best to shield my eyes with my arms. My bed was growing cold fast, and the soporific pleasantness disappearing little by little.

"Breakfast is ready and you have a shop to man. Get up and boogie."

I sighed and sat up grumbling complaints the whole way through. I really hated it when Tifa told me boogie mostly because I was far from the state of dancing around right now. "Urrgh... didn't you know that I'm a vampire?" I mumbled while rubbing my face wearily with my hand, "Sunlight is harmful to my health. I'll melt and you'll have a helluva hard time cleaning me off the floor."

"You don't strike me as a person who'd hate the sun. From what I've gathered, you actually _like_ it. And no, the information being six-years-old doesn't change a thing, because you're no different now than your were then. Face it mister Fair, you were always full of energy."

My eyebrows quirked up. Since when did Tifa go around spying on me in Radiant Garden? I mean, I knew how incredibly good-looking I was, but she didn't look like the kind to go chasing after me... and the spying? That wasn't Tifa. I must have been wearing a dazed look, because then, as though she was reading my mind, she cocked a brow and tilted her head to the side, her silky hair sliding a little as she did so.

"Rinoa and I used to feed intel to Aerith about you. It's only natural."

Damn. She had no idea how much of dent that left in my pride.

"Thanks a lot for reminding me that not everyone falls for the Zack Charm."

Tifa laughed and I was taken aback. In the past week, she hadn't really laughed at my jokes. She may have quirked a small smile now and then, but listening to her lilting giggle was a first. I felt my mouth grin sheepishly and my pride rekindle... just a little bit.

"Sorry, sorry," She paused, her musical laugh gone with the dismissive wave of her hand. The smile was still there. "Now that You're actually up, I'll leave you to recuperate from your Anti-Sunlight and Damaged Testosterone syndrome."

"Ha. Ha. That was so funny I forgot to laugh."

Yup. She had to be clairvoyant.

Chuckling again, she turned and left me to my peace, shutting the door gently behind her. I sighed and sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, contemplating the difference between the life I was living now and the one I had until about a week ago.

There was a definite change in routine. The sun smiling in through the window was notably brighter, and I found the tangy wind on my face far more enjoyable than when I felt it alone. I turned and took a quick peek out the window. The view I had of Shelton became shockingly similar to the view I got when I looked out my bedroom window in Radiant Garden. The only difference between the two was that the buildings in Shelton were colorful while the ones in my homeworld weren't (if you didn't count the flowers, the people, and all those banners).

A week had passed without any signs of Tifa sniffing out anything suspicious... at least not yet. I suppose I should have been relieved, but I wasn't.

The happiness and the security I was feeling was an illusion, and I damn well knew that. As soon as the sinister truth was found out, things would turn ugly. Soon after Tifa figured me out, she'd be bowling out the door faster than a speeding bullet. It would be like a second Radiant Garden incident, a bit smaller in proportions but equally as devastating. It was foolish of me to create this dream of mine, but I was reliving my old life, and enjoying every second of it... minus the guilt that never stopped its gentle tugging at my conscience.

I could feel my mood dampening. So before it had a chance to blacken I heaved myself out of bed and busied myself in the usual morning rituals.

Once presentable, I entered the kitchen. Tifa, who had been posing behind the stove, whirled in on me, spatula in hand. For some reason, I half expected her to reach out and slap me across the face with it. I flinched. Seeing my grim look, her smile disappeared temporarily. She asked me if I were sick and I told her I wasn't. And before she think of anything else to say, I quickly occupied a seat behind the table, with my back to her. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't squash the uneasiness within. It was like a stubborn smear of ink on linen sheets.

"So then," She began, "How many blueberry pancakes would you like, mister Fair?"

There was a clatter of shifting plates and the scraping of the spatula before a wet flop and the crackling sizzle of delicious batter cooking. A smile crept onto my face. Tifa was good at making me forget my dark emotions and a star cook to boot. "Twelve."

"Twelve!?"

"Yes. With three eggs and fifty pieces of bacon."

"You're such a monster, did you know that Zack?" Yeah. I knew that. I could almost picture her calling me that, only she had her hands placed firmly on her hips and she wasn't smiling. Her squinting at me through narrowed eyes was an additional bonus to the grim projection. Mentally shaking off the thought, I was determined not to let my cover blow.

"What?" I said defensively, pushing my chair back a little to catch her eye. "I'm a growing man!"

"_You_ are irrevocably _not_."

Regardless of her comment, Tifa had managed to shovel out my order of twelve pancakes in record time, setting them down on the table in front of me before turning to work on my eggs and bacons.

I attacked my plate with a bottle of syrup, copious amounts of butter, and my fork and it tasted heavenly. My voracious appetite, as Sephiroth liked to point out back in our military days, was as "atrocious as my table manners" and he couldn't stand to look at me without losing his appetite. I'm sure that was what Tifa was thinking had she seen me scarfing down my breakfast. To my defense, Tifa's pancakes were too good to eat like a stiff; that and I had a third and fourth stomach packed away in my legs somewhere.

I was about halfway finished with my pancakes when Tifa returned to the table with a plate of eggs in one hand and bacons in the other. She placed them on the table and took her seat behind her empty plate next to me, shaking her head as she watched me practically inhaling everything down. Soon after she had seated herself, her face had glazed over with that far-off look of hers. I didn't need to ask her to figure out that she was thinking about Cloud and what he was doing while she awaited his supposed return with me. Unbeknownst to myself, I felt a twinge of jealousy working its way into me, but it wasn't strong enough for me to admit it just yet.

Tifa didn't deserve a liar.

My fork slowed and I sat there glancing at her sad features for a while.

"Don't worry, Tifa." I put my silverware down and place a friendly hand on her upper arm. "Cloud will be fine."

She started, then faced me, smiling. "I know. Being here tells me that I'll be able to see him some day." My heart plummeted to my toes. She giggled, not noticing. "You've got syrup on your nose, by the way."

I ought to rot in hell. Really.

**x x x**

A month. One whole month. That was what it took me to realize that something was definitely wrong with me. Don't get me wrong, we've already established that I'm an asshole for deceiving Tifa. This was something else. I was well aware of my funny behavior (barreling out of the room whenever Tifa stepped out from a shower), only I couldn't quite place my finger on what it was. Actually, I knew damn well why I was being so weird, I just didn't want to admit it. Still, as though to convince myself, I spent days sitting alone on one of the benches at the village square listening to the distinguishing crash of the ocean, pondering over the times gone by.

With Tifa, business picked up pretty quickly. There were certainly a lot more men coming around my parlor, an elbow placed on the glass counter, engaging her in small talk, eyes glued not to her face, but to her ample bosom, stupid grins on their faces. I took it upon myself to push her aside before damage sunk in and asked them which damn flavor they wanted, albeit perhaps a little too aggressively.

One of them had the nerve to slip a, "Tifa."

And just like that, my fist was in his face. The guy reared back against the opposite wall, hands covering up his bloody nose. He glared at me and I knew he was asking for a fight and I was going to give it to the little fucker, only if Tifa hadn't caught me by the arm.

"Wait."

I may not be a stunning example when it came to treating a woman, but I was polite enough not to go swaggering about, testosterone levels running sky high. Ruefully to speak, I was most definitely not innocent from having stared at her assets myself, but I sure as hell was certain that I've never demeaned Tifa the way half the male population in Shelton did. Without Cloud around to jump anyone who insulted his childhood friend, I took it upon myself to bust a few heads for him. It was the least I could do.

"What do you mean wait?" I demanded, gesturing wildly at the man in conversation. "The guy just treated you like the shit beneath his nails!"

"I know, I know. Just... calm down. We can settle this diplomatically."

"_Bullshit._" I spat.

"Zack..."

"Don't 'Zack' me. Just look at him! He's itching for a fight!" I tried tearing my arm out of Tifa's hand, but her grip tightened and she literally dragged me back.

"Don't be so _stupid._"

"I'm not being stupid, _he_ is!"

My arm flailed angrily at the man who was the bastard incarnation of darkness itself.

"Jealous are we?" He sneered, "Bet there isn't a single night without you jacking off about her..."

"Son of a..." I lunged at him, but Tifa kept me at bay.

She turned to the guy and fixed him with a cold look and just like that, my anger dissipated. I shuddered, being plenty glad I wasn't on the receiving end of eyes hard and cold like rubies. It was a look that was difficult to imagine on her face, not when the Tifa I knew was anything but. Attracted by the stirring commotion, there was a crowd beginning form along the street, clogging the narrow artery as they watched on with great interest. It wasn't every day that a resident of Shelton witnessed a proper fist fight, and I was ready to give it to them, had Tifa not been there to keep me in check.

"You'd better take that back." She spoke slowly and deliberately, "Or else you'd be asking for trouble."

"Trouble?" The guy leered. He lowered his hands, revealing a smear of red across the just above his upper lip. "And just what kind of trouble would that be, _doll_?"

Tifa's vice-like grip on my arm slackened temporarily and I took the chance to try and jump him again, but she stopped me with a hand on my shoulder with a mean look to top it off.

"Apologize to Zack, and I'll let you off easy."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I'll be generous and give you up to the count of three, starting from one..."

I shot Tifa an incredulous. As far as I was concerned, the guy sure as hell didn't have the merit to be presented with a chance to be let off scot free with a warning.

"Two..."

The crowd watched on and my mouth was working for a rebuttal.

"Three."

There was a moment of silence then, "You asked for it." The gleam in Tifa's eyes had changed. My insides squirmed uncomfortably. Something told me the guy was in for it and that Tifa wasn't going to stop until she knocked some common courtesy into his tiny skull. Quietly, she reached into the butt pocket of her skirt, extracting a pair of fingerless gloves, which she slipped onto her hands. She flexed her fingers and, with a squeak of leather curling over her knuckles, prepared to move around me.

"Tifa, wait. Maybe we can settle this diplomatically." She brushed my hands off with a hard glinting look, and I raised the flag of surrender, raising my hands in front of me, smiling weakly as I edged away from her. "Okay, okay... maybe not."

With the grace rivaling that of a cat, she stepped past me, ducking fluidly under the counter and coming up just as easily. Her boots crunched against the paved ground, as she approached the person in question, every step she took radiating menace.

Nobody else seemed to have noticed the underlying threat, nobody except me. They were expecting her to slap him across the face or something, but I was thinking otherwise. Maybe it was because I was a warrior, maybe I'm just too smart. Whichever the case, looking into her eyes, I saw her for what she was and I knew a mean fighter when I saw one. Tifa Lockhart definitely wasn't someone to mess with. Contrary to my analysis of Tifa, the other guy grinned wolfishly at her as she approached, cocking his head for a good measure.

Then, faster than I could bark, "Heartless!" she reached out with powerful right hook that shattered his nose upon impact. There was a sickening crunch and the guy fell back against the gruff pink cement howling in pain, hands flying to is now broken nose as blood stained his front. I felt my jaw unhinge and the crowd gasped. Jesus. They weren't kidding when they say hell hath no fury than a woman gone mad. I made a mental note to remain in Tifa's good books, or, at least as much as I can for lying to her.

"You better get up and apologize." Tifa spoke not with gruff menace, but with saccharine femininity. Long, lean legs shoulder-length apart, one fist resting casually on the crook of her her hips, she paused, waiting for the words. Predictably, the guy didn't respond. Hands still over his broken nose, his green eyes blazed with anger.

"You little bitch!" He snarled then threw himself at her. She side-stepped him easily and he went tumbling into my counter. If I weren't so dazed by Tifa's perfect hooking skills, I probably would have grappled his front, spun him around, and shoved him back into the lion's den, but not without satisfying myself with a fist of my own straight into the jaw.

The guy had issued a low growl. He rushed at Tifa, ready to grab her if she moved out of his way, but she reacted differently, this time landing a flying roundhouse kick straight into his right shoulder quickly succeeded by a knee into his left. The blow sent him skittering across the street and into the crowd. They scattered like frightened pigeons, eyes growing rounder and rounder by the second.

As for the bastard, he made feeble attempts to pick himself up, but Tifa's final blow had knocked the wind out of him and he fell back against the ground wheezing apologizes like a miserable child being chastised by his mother.

Tifa lowered her fists and straightened. "So then, tell me, what are you sorry about?"

"For demeaning you and insulting the ice cream man."

"Good boy. That wasn't very hard now, was it?"

"Yes, yes, it wasn't." He moaned.

And just like that, the situation had been resolved.

I continued to stare, jaw still sitting on the floor. Tifa had everything a man could ever need or want: cooking skills, a pretty face, sewing skills that rivaled that of a steamstress, a personality, sweetness, and a wicked punch to boot. I refused to add "hot body" to the list, not when I had just witnessed her beating the crap out of a full-grown man because of his raunchy innuendo.

The woman in question smiled a little and dusted her hands as she turned away from the group of gawkers. She undid the clasps on her gloves and, as she was yanking them off, rose her eyes to my own, a pleased smile on her face. I swallowed hard.

"Your mouth's still open, Zack."

"I..." Of course it was! I just saw a woman half the size of her opponent literally kick common sense into his testosterone-filled head!

Still, I snapped it shut and quickly moved out of Tifa's way as she ducked back into my store. Shellshocked, I watched her as she stuffed her fighting gloves unceremoniously back whence they had come. I simply couldn't erase the image of her forcing out an apology with only three solid hits in just under a minute. I don't think I've seen that before. My breath caught in my throat and just like that, I'd fallen head-over-heels in love with her.

**x x x**

If someone told me that time flies, I would have agreed a hundred and ten percent.

The lie that I had spoken all those nights ago kept Tifa by my side for three and half months now.

Oftentimes, I found myself wishing that Tifa would hurry up, figure out my fib and punch me or something because I really needed—no, I _deserved_ it, and I deserved it bad. What the hell was I thinking when I opened by big flabbering mouth? And I didn't even regret making her stay with me, either. It was worse that I couldn't stop staring at her. I was the devil and I knew it.

Not a day passed when I found myself hit my head against the wall. It was driving me insane watching her move across my booth, smiling serenely down to eager children as she handed them their cold treats, with that far-off look in her eyes. No sooner had she straightened and turned to me, I'd quickly advert my attention and busy myself in something seemingly more productive such as wiping an already spick and span counter, or rearranging cones and cups, anything as long as I wasn't looking at her.

Tifa had completely taken over my ice cream parlor by then, relinquishing even my apron and hat. She looked ridiculous under the pink hat with the large blue penguin plush pinned to its side, and the apron clashed magnificently with her white tanks and suspenders. I didn't hesitate to tell her just that.

"Really?" She asked, eyebrows disappearing into her dark fringes. I bit my lips. She had no idea how cute that made her look. "And you think you can pull these off without looking silly yourself, mister Fair?" At this, she gestured down to herself at my apron.

I scoffed.

"Pfft. Of course. _I_ look good in anything."

For a second, Tifa stood there regarding me an incredulous look until my words sank in. With a playful shove to my shoulder, she giggled. It was a tone glittering and full of girlish power and I swear I felt something within me die from a cute attack. "God, you're _so_ conceited!"

I felt a goofy grin sidling on my lips. "It's the _Zack Charm_, Tifa, the Zack Charm."

"Not _that_ again!" Tifa groaned as she feigned a migraine, pinching the bridge of her nose for emphasis.

"You know I'm handsome, and I know it too. Ask around the neighborhood, all the girls'll admit it. The guys here are green with envy twenty-four-seven." I crossed my arms across my chest and smirked. Tifa merely rolled her eyes. I took that gesture as a challenge. "Seriously, name one person, Tifa, one person who's handsomer than I am. Bet you can't think of anyone."

"Actually, I can."

"Oh? So who's the lucky guy?"

"I don't think you'll ever live it down, if I told you." She mumbled quietly.

"That sounds like a challenge, Lockhart. I wanna know who the guy is."

"Okay, okay, I give. Zack is the most handsome person on the face of this planet."

My stomach performed a somersault and a ninety-degree drop to my toes when she said that. It had caught me off guard for a bit, but not enough to quell my curiosity. "Okay, so now that the truth's been reaffirmed, who could have possibly been the lucky guy that _you_ labeled as handsomer than the mighty Zack?" I poked Tifa in the rib and offered her a suggestive wiggle of my brows. She responded with a guilty look, mumbled something sounding suspiciously along the lines of her mouth being stupid. She must have been determined to drop the subject because she almost pounced on her next customer. Definitely not a gesture I expected from her, not when Tifa was one of the most forward person I'd ever met.

I didn't say anything. Instead, I resumed my position by the corner and watched her hand the customer a large scoop of rainbow sherbet, wearing a big million dollar smile. From its position in the sky, the sun stuck the side of Tifa's face at an angle that illuminated her entire face in a way I've never seen before. I was momentarily transfixed and nearly missed her waving to the child as he disappeared around the corner. Taking advantage of the stretch of silence that followed thereafter I regarded her with a cocked brow.

"I'm still waiting, Tifa."

She fixed me with a wry look.

"You don't give up do you?"

"Nope. Spill it."

The wry gaze twisted into a mischievous smirk and suddenly I felt very wary about the answer she was about to provide me. I gulped and stepped away from her, regretting everything I've done that prodded her into saying what was to come. She grinned and I shifted my weight between my legs.

"Sephiroth."

"Oh no... oh _hell_ no."

Picturing Tifa obsessing over Sephiroth was one of the last things on my mind. Such a thought was equally as insane as a person willingly hugging a Heartless. I had expected a completely different answer, like, oh, I don't know, Cloud Strife? It was a more conspicuous response because she was completely in love with him, not me. Certainly not a man like Sephiroth, a man who lost a battle of his own will and thus took part in destroying a world he had loved as much as I. The memory of that haunted, defeated look in his eyes had always torn my heart, still beating and all, from my chest.

"... In the personality department, but you have to admit that his face looks like it's been chiseled from marble."

For a moment, I blinked, confused from having my mind still rousing from the hazy memories of my past.

Then it struck me.

I choked. _Chiseled from marble?_ Seriously, where had _that_ come from? I wanted to laugh, and laugh I did, the image of Sephiroth's blood staining my arms momentarily forgotten and fading with the balmy sea breeze.

**x x x**

I couldn't erase that fateful night from my mind, I never could. It hurt me, hurt me in a way that burned my innards inside-out. The nightmares plagued me often, each scenario playing out differently. What had never changed was the image of myself covered in a coat of thick crimson blood, that wasn't mine. It belonged to Sephiroth, whose body lay crumpled at my feet, jade eyes staring blankly up and burning into my own. Then I would scream and scream and scream until I woke up, bathed in a thick sheen of sweat, and panting as if I had just run the marathon.

On one particular night, I had shot up in bed, still screaming. It was dark out and I could hear the beating of rain against my window and the distant sounds of the ocean crashing up against rocks miles below Shelton. Running a hand through my hair, I breathed a sigh of relief and fell back against my pillow and closed my eyes. Just as I prepared to let sleep embrace me again, I heard the door crack open. My eyes flew open and I turned my head to the side.

Tifa stood at the entrance. It was too dark to read the expression on her face. I could only catch her silhouette against the grey light, but her posture and the way she hovered at my bedroom door was enough to let me know that she was worried. Keeping as quiet as I could, I lay still in bed, head still tilted in her direction and watched her with adoring eyes. She looked gorgeous even with her hair mussed from sleep, Cloud's nightshirt hanging enticingly from her curvy frame. I could have laid there for an eternity, watching her until she turned right back around and left, which she did. Only, she paused at the doorway and turned back to me. Wordlessly, she stood there as if contemplating something.

Silence seemed to stretch into infinity, the only sounds being the rain pattering against my windowpane and the ocean churning miles below.

She crossed the space between the door and my bed with hesitance. I couldn't see her face, but, as a trained warrior, the uncertainty emancipating from her body language was obvious.

It wasn't long until I felt the edge of my bed sag under her weight as she lowered herself onto my mattress. And when she placed motherly delicate fingers over my forehead, I stopped breathing.

"I know you're not sleeping, Zack." She murmured, voice still husky from sleep. "Talk to me."

I sighed and sat up, pushing my covers off as I leaned against the wooden headboard. We both knew that neither of us were going to drift off to sleep. Besides, it did help some when I talked my problems out with someone. Once again, I raked my hair with my fingers, mind working furiously to find a place to begin. Meanwhile, Tifa sat and waited patiently for me to speak, never once forcing the answers out of me, forever waiting until I was ready.

The long sketch of silence returned, persisting until I could take it no more.

"I killed him." I blurted out, unbeknownst to myself.

In the musty darkness, I caught a glimpse of surprise on her pretty face. Still, Tifa chose to say nothing, quietly urging me for the specifics. Once again, I was reminded of my unrequited love for her, but now wasn't the time to be discussing the subject. So I pushed it out of my mind and continued, speaking slowly and deliberately so to keep the panic in check.

"With my own two hands. He told me to, told me that it was the only option that I had left if I wanted to prevent Radiant Garden from falling into an even greater despair. And me?" I shook my head. "Me being the idiot that I was, I did it. Took my fucking blade and drove it through his fucking heart." My fingers curled into tight fists., anger still corroding the inside of my belly. "Dammit." I hissed, hitting a fist into my mattress and grinding it into my sheets for a good measure, "Dammit all to hell."

"What do you mean? Who?"

"Sephiroth." She gasped. "I was all he had, the only person he could trust, and what did I do? What the hell did I do? I killed him, I _fucking_ killed him with the excuse that I was saving him from his darkness."

"Zack," Tifa began slowly, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder. I was aware that she didn't think too fondly of my old friend and I didn't blame her. Even so, she controlled her disgust toward him as if to do it for me saying, "What's done is done. You can't change the past."

"I know," I spat vehemently. "I know. But... but... it kills me. There isn't a day that passes when I don't think about it, when I don't think about what could have happened if I didn't kill him, if I had taken a different approach to it." I tore my gaze away from Tifa to the sliver of rusty orange between my parted curtains. Tifa said nothing, sitting there quietly drinking in the information I had just provided her. Then, with the creaking of my bed, she leaned forward and took my hand into hers. "I'm a shitty friend." I croaked, bringing my hand to my face.

As damaging as it may have been to my pride, there was nothing more that I wanted than to cry, to blubber like a little boy.

"Don't do that to yourself, Zack. It's not your fault. Our world was crumbling, people were dying left and right. People were losing friends, family, homes, their all, _everything._ It was a dark time. You didn't know what else to do. Nobody knew." The weight on my bed shifted, and I could feel her coming towards me. Her scent overpowering me as she pulled my head into her chest, circling her arms around it, a warm accepting embrace, full of comprehension. She empathized with me in a way nobody else could and I was soaring.

She was much warmer than I had expected and full of caring, full of profound energy and oh so intoxicating. "You're not a shitty friend, Zack," She murmured, stroking the top of my head in a motherly action, "You aren't. I know you."

Oh, but if she knew what I had done to have her by my side. Had she known that I yearned to toss her on my bed and hold her beneath me, she would have thought differently. Much differently. I wasn't as innocent as I let myself on to others. But I chose to say nothing and let her hold me for now, as I lost myself in the fragrance of rosewood and ocean, the picture of Sephiroth's bloodied corpse fleeing from my mind for the night. Tifa had no idea how much I wanted her.

**x x x**

Six months. Something was up. Either I was a damn good liar, or Tifa was too soft to ditch a bastard like me. Calling her stupid was out of the question. Those six months had been enough for me to get to know her well enough.

I had worked up the courage to take her out for the night. You know, a little break from all the cooking she's been doing. She had insisted that she needed something nice to wear if I wanted to treat her for dinner and it wasn't long before I found myself trailing after her, while she browsed a few dresses in the shop windows, finger over her lips and that signature lilt to her voice when she hummed pensively.

The dress in question was of a modest cut, very simple, covering most body parts, save for the shoulders, arms and calves. Its only redeeming number was that the bodice was a tight fit. Tifa hovered in front of it, dropping her hand to her side as she chewed on her lower lip. I could almost hear the cogs clicking in her head. It amazed me how Tifa's roundhouse kick was strong enough to seriously put the fear of God in men, but through it all, she was still a woman at heart.

"Ugh..." She moaned at last, "I can't decide. What do you think?"

"Doesn't hurt to try. I'll pay, so you don't regret it when you do."

"Oh no Mister Fair," She began, wagging her finger under my nose and addressing me with her personalized nickname reserved specifically for me, "You will do no such thing."

With that, she turned and marched resolutely into the store, me trailing in behind her like the lost puppy I was.

The inside of the store was small and cramped, but not in a way that made it uncomfortable. Deep within the forest of fabrics, an old lady had perched herself on a stool, back hunched as she meticulously worked blue beads into a particularly flashy dress. Upon hearing the gentle tinkle of the bell on her door, she paused, straightening herself the best she could with her aged back, needle poised over the white fabric.

Seeing us, she lowered her needle and swiveled on her chair, removing her round spectacles from the bridge of her nose as she greeted them.

"Good morning Zack, Tifa," She gave the two of them a slight nod followed by a serene smile then settled her glasses over the fabric. "Feel free to let me know if you find something you like."

"Mornin' Miriam." I greeted her with a lazy wave of my hand. "Lovely day, isn't it?

"It is. How goes your day, Zack?"

"Great, actually."

"And yours, Tifa?"

"Wonderful, and what about yours?"

"Perfectly lovely, of course."

I've always liked Miriam. She was a nice lady, very conversational, polite, and not very pushy, unlike most storeowners, letting her customers move about the small space without interrupting them. Admittedly, I've always found it kinda annoying when I'm in a store, trying to weigh out my options between a banana and an apple and the guy comes around harassing me, as if I had come to run off with his store wares. The worst part is when he tries to sell me his overpriced corn when all I want are his damn potatoes. Miriam wasn't like that, and that was what made me like her. If you didn't want that shitty sequined jacket, then you didn't have to.

In a way, she reminded me of Tifa.

Vaguely, I tried picturing Tifa fifty years later, grey-haired with delicate wrinkled skin, translucent from age. No matter how I saw it, I decided she would still be beautiful, burgundy eyes still glittering bright with a heart bigger than the ocean. She would probably be the kind old lady who set a batch of cookies out on her porch for the children to grab, for free. Speaking of which...

Tifa was eyeing the back of her desired dress.

"I was wondering if that dress in the window was available."

"Ah, the orange one, I presume?"

"Yes."

"Of course it is. Let me get it off the dressmaker's dummy for you, darling." Miriam pushed her work away and eased herself to her feet. She moved past the sheaths of cloth, pushing aside a few dresses covering her display window. Reaching over, she undid the zipper and gave the fabric a gentle tug. The dress came off easily, which she gathered carefully in her arms and passed to Tifa. "You can find the dressing room near my worktable. I'm afraid it's not much, but it will keep you perfectly hidden."

Thanking the elderly lady, Tifa disappeared behind a few bolts of cloth piled up near the back.

While we waited, Miriam and I chattered about the weather and her family. A few minutes passed before the clatter of shoes usurped my attention. I look up in time to catch Tifa emerge with the dress fitting her like a glove.

It wasn't very spectacular on the mannequin, but on Tifa it was the epitome of perfection. As I had assumed, the dress had a modest front, which covered her cleavage. To make it up, the straps were thin, pronouncing the grace of her slender neck and shoulders. The upper part clung to her chest, tapering at her waist then flaring out innocently. "Well?" Tifa asked, hands on her hips then spinning a half circle so that I faced her back. Humble as her front was, the back was a bit more daring, the lining of her dress cutting just beneath her shoulder blades. Additionally, the satiny material cut interesting shadows across her body, accentuating her perfect figure. My world spun.

"You don't like it?"

I was too busy gawking to answer.

"I think it's been established that that's a taker," Miriam spoke, the ghost of a knowing smile spreading across her withered features. "Isn't that right, Zack?"

I barely managed a nod.

**x x x**

The night had been great. It couldn't have been any finer because it was the best, topnotch right up until it came to a screeching crash to the worst.

It had been almost as if everyone's minds in Shelton had been connected. Somewhere someone had read my mind, slipped a little word that I was taking Tifa out. The night sparkled and the stars, accompanying the moon, lit the plaza in their gentle silverly light. Every lamppost had been covered with decorations, pink, green, and yellow crepe paper hung from glowing wires studded with bulbs. Giant red lanterns hung from the trees, and a few smaller ones, white in color, resting on the stone balustrades. There was, to my amusement, a small band working up a few numbers, while several couples milled about around the fountain, dancing.

The parties in Shelton weren't nearly as spectacular as the ones in Radiant Garden, not when the latter had fireworks, magic, and superior technology as a booster. I was, of course, not complaining. Something about the simplicity of it all, exuded delicate beauty. As for the number one woman of my life, she was exquisite with her hair piled high on her head, messy yet immaculate all the same. Fourteen was the age limit for partygoers in Radiant Garden, it had been the number of years Tifa had lived when everything went to hell.

Never having witnessed a dance in her life, Tifa had released a squeal of delight, then clutched my arm tightly (it was mutually agreed that, as her escort, I would prop my arm accordingly so to offer her the crook of my elbow).

There had been the dinner and since it was I who had offered her the suggestion of eating out and because she had spent quite a pretty penny on her dress (regardless of the discount), I was paying. Tifa didn't say anything, but I noted with amusement that she had deliberately chosen the cheapest on the menu, regardless of the fact that I insisted that she didn't hold back. She had shaken her head, and shut the menu with a snap, holding up a perfectly manicured finger, french tipped, in front of my face.

After the dinner, there were the drinks.

We moved away from the bistro, glowing and hit up the bar laughing and joking.

Both of us ordered beer. We weren't dating, so there wasn't the need to be formal about the night. The lights in the bar were low, and we sat up by the bartender mouths moving a mile a minute. The fiddle screeching outside along with the blasting of brass instruments provided the music as we idled the night away, our minds far from all the worries that usually invaded our minds.

While Tifa shared stories of her life in Radiant Garden—happy ones, mind you—and I shared mine. I told her stories of the lives I led in Radiant Garden Military Academy, and about how Leon and I celebrated our eighteenth birthday together and how he refused to touch the bottle despite being officially legal. We laughed until tears rolled down our cheeks when Tifa told me how she, Aerith, and Rinoa designed a frilly pink dress specially for Cloud and how they blackmailed him into it. She had to clutch the table from falling over, when she heard the story of how Sephiroth and I got lost in the middle of the great forest surrounding Ansem's kingdom, completely underdressed and fresh into the job.

And as the night deepened and so did my high spirits.

When we had exhausted ourselves from sharing all those flashbacks, I led Tifa to the dance floor and taught her a few jigs. I found that I was right when I said that she was a smart girl. Tifa learned quickly, and it wasn't before long that she was spiraling on the cobblestone, dress rippling like molten lava as if she'd been dancing all her life.

I wished the night would never end. I wished the goddamn sun would never rise. I wished for a lifetime to spend with Tifa. I wished I had met her earlier, approached her that day, seven years ago when she sat at the cafe giggling with Aerith, Cloud sandwiched in the middle, face red like a Roma tomato.

Why did we have to cross paths when it was too late? Why the hell did I have to be such an asshole and lie to her like that?

What the _fuck_ is _wrong_ with me?

**x x x**

It was too short, too good to be true. For six months I had been living in a dreamworld, I was back in Radiant Garden having the time of my life with the girl of my dreams. My happiness could have lasted a little longer, maybe a few more months. Unfortunately, as the old saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Pity that tonight was the night I was to wake up. I didn't hold anything against that. My only objection to that was, why now?

I already knew the answer to that. Hell, I was expecting this, waiting for it to blow up in my face. Fate couldn't have chosen a better timing to turn around and kick me in the face.

We stumbled into my apartment, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. Tifa was perfectly sober regardless of her unending giggles. As for myself, well, let's just say that I had one beer too many. I wasn't completely sloshed, of course, just a bit tipsy, and with Tifa supporting me, I didn't mind it at all. She had thrown my left hand over her shoulder, with one arm around my waist and half dragged me up the steps. Somehow, she had managed to work the door open, and dropped me on the couch before throwing herself on the kitchen chair for a rest.

"Ugh... you're heavy, you know that?"

"No I'm not," I teased, the Zack Charm switched up as far as it could go, "You're just making excuses for groping me."

A laugh.

"Yes, I suppose that's it. I can't deny it anymore, mister Fair, your Zack Charm is too much for me to bear!"

"Oh?" I furtively squashed my floating heart down and wiggled my eyebrows suggestively, leaning forward on my couch, cocky grin in place. "Really?"

"No, not really. But you're cute enough." Unaware that she had just dashed my heart on the floor, Tifa sighed and leaned back, lips still smiling. My grin faltered, but, determined not to ruin the night, I forced it in place. "I had a lot of fun, though." She dropped her gaze to the wooden floorboards, eyes softening, voice depressingly soft. "Thanks for the dinner."

Right then and there, I knew who had just crossed her mind. I didn't hate Cloud. I never could, not in a million years. But I couldn't help but feel envy sear through my chest, burning white hot. My mouth had gone bone-dry. And while I knew I didn't deserve to feel like this, I was only human. These feelings, the love, the annoyance, the despair, and the guilt were only natural. _'Besides,'_ I told myself, _'I don't deserve Tifa.'_ She was too good for me, way out of my league. Who was I to kid? If there was anyone who should be with her, it was Leon. His morality was as upright as a chair, definitely a much better candidate than the pathetic, sloppy me.

Like Tifa, Leon had lost someone. They could relate, and best of all, he wasn't a lying dick like me. It took everything in my willpower to force the twinge of annoyance that filled my mind. So much that, I leaned back in my couch and sighed, resting my head on its edge. "You break my heart, Tifa. Really."

There was the sound of the chair scraping against the wood, followed by light footsteps. I closed by eyes, so I didn't have to see her face, lest I go nuts. Tifa gently righted me in strong, well-toned arms. "Come on Zack, you've had too much to drink."

"Mmm... I think I feel a headache settling in." I grimaced. It was genuine, not fake—one that expressed the pain I felt because Tifa would never look at me as a man. To her I was just some genderless friend that kept her company as she despaired over Cloud. That depressed me a bit. I mulled over the past six months as she helped me to my feet and guided me across the room. The door burst open and for a moment we stood still, me sagging in Tifa's arms as the whispering of sheets being turned aside echoed dully in the deathly silent room.

Very carefully, she eased me into bed then moved to remove my shoes and socks before shrugging me out of my jacket. It was very motherly of her. She was so good and full of so much raw power, the power of love. With a final pat on my shoulder, she rose to leave me to sleep. More and more, I convinced myself that I was a jerk.

I don't know what had possessed me then, but suddenly I was overcome with a sense that it was now or never. The premonition came to me so quickly, I found myself suddenly completely sober and, before I could catch myself, my arm snapped up, gripping her wrist.

"Tifa, wait."

"Hmm?" She turned, confusion written all over her features as I sat up.

"Don't go."

I felt her stiffen under my grip and I wanted to drop her hand, grin and pass it all off as a joke. If I wanted to back out of it now, however, it was too late. So I flipped the covers off me and stood, biting my lips as I stared down at her in the twilit room. One of the curtains on my window and been left ajar. Feeble florescent light leaked into my room, hitting my right shoulder and fantastically illuminating one side of Tifa's face.

We stood there, barely a foot apart, unsure of what to do next. I forced the urge to brush the back of my knuckles against her cheek, opting, instead, to fix my eyes on her gorgeous eyes. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears and my mind was swimming from the sorrow of already knowing the outcome of this.

"Tifa... I'm..." I mumbled, sounding surprisingly like Cloud at that moment. Great. Just when she was at her lowest, I just _had_ to sound like him. Tifa must have recognized her resemblence, because her eyes went wide and teary-eyed. I cleared my throat resolutely. "Tifa." I said a little stronger, sounding more like myself again. "You don't know how much you mean to me."

She didn't say anything, choosing instead to stare at a loose thread on the cuff of my shirt. Pursing my lips, I released her hand and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. Her scent was overpowering. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you except for that. You've made life grand again, made me feel complete while I did jack shit and I'm sorry about it all. I've... I've tried to make it all up to you, not after what I've done to you, not after I decided to be a selfish bastard..."

"I knew."

I released her.

"What?"

Absently, Tifa rubbed her bare arms, eyes lowered as to avoid mine. "I'm a horrible person, Zack."

I blinked. What on earth was she going on about? How could she possibly be saying such a thing? Didn't she know that I've been keeping her here, far from Cloud? Withholding important information that could possibly lead to her reuniting with the love of her life? "No, Tifa, you're not a terrible person, I am. I... I..." A frustrated sigh then, "I lied to you. I held back something precious to you and I'm paying for it right now. I did it because when I saw you, I saw the chance to get it all back, and I seized it. Damn it, Tifa, I just took advantage of you!"

"I know..."

My jaw unhinged. She raised her eyes to meet mine, eyes bright and filled with emotion before they were lowered and hid behind long, thick lashes. "... And I didn't deserve your kindness."

By then, I was pretty sure that my ears weren't in working order. Kindness? What kindness? I never gave her anything of the sort. I, Zack Fair, wasn't the guy who woke up early every morning to force Tifa out of bed, nor do I recollect cooking any dinners. And no, that one disastrous night when I nearly burnt the building down didn't count. In the past six months, I hadn't even touched the broomstick nor had I picked up the feather duster. I was like a fat, old trailer trash dude wasting time away with my ass growing bigger and bigger by the second. How was that called kindness?

I squinted down at Tifa, trying to make sense of the absurdity of it all.

"You knew that the only person I could ever think about was Cloud, yet you let me stay here. The single ray of hope you fashioned for me may have been an illusion, but it brought my spirits up and for the first time in five years, I _believed_ again. The light that was dimming inside by heart has been revitalized. During all those months, you were like my stilt, holding me up and never letting me fall. You lied to me, you kept things from me, and while you expect me to be angry about it, I can't."

"Why?" I whispered hoarsely.

"I'm not because I understand the pain you've felt for all these years. It was the same pain we've all been suffering from. You and I had lost something we cannot obtain ever again, everyone did. We've lost the ultimate bliss, our innocence. Upon meeting you, it had been the first time in a long time since I've seen someone from Radiant Garden. If you were going to lie to me, I didn't care... and I've used you... shamelessly, just as you had used me. So don't tell me you're sorry, because you've already been forgiven."

I couldn't control the tears that threatened to fall. I'm a big sap, I know, but they just came. Hot and wet, rolling down my face so fast I couldn't catch them. I could feel Tifa's arms crushing into my midriff, her face mashed against my chest.

"I'm sorry I can't love you like you love me. I wish I could, but no matter how hard I try, I can't. A thousand apologies will never surmount to what you've done for me. But still, I'm sorry. So, so sorry..."

"Don't even start with me Lockhart," I mumbled, voice raw and thick with emotion. I pulled back long enough to plant a chaste kiss on her forehead before gathering her up into my arms again. "You know you're already forgiven."

"Thank you, Zack... for everything."

* * *

Inspired by the song "Love is a Losing Game," sung by the highly talented Amy Winehouse. Speaking of music, the chorus in Daniel Bedingfield's "All your Attention" is perfect for how Zack feels for Tifa, only you replace "sun" with "Clouds."

Lol. Terrible pun, I know, but I can picture Zack singing, "Even jealous of the Cloooooouds in your eyes..." off-key, mind you. XD

And yes. Clouds. Plural. Because Tifa's has two eyes, and it's funny imagining two Clouds in them.


End file.
